Unsung Heroes: The First Paragon

By Ian Rupe

Deep within the farm lands of Central New York is a beacon of pure unaligned power called a Nexus. A benevolent collective of gods have corrupted it to the point of bleeding out into the rest of the world by somehow abusing its power within an academy for adverse youth. Careful not to reveal his true identity, a mysterious man, Tribe, must discover their grand design within the academy and forge more like himself, an immortal with unreal powers, to battle all forms of evil gods, and their kind, directly. If he fails his quest, then all of existence may fall with him. During Tribe’s first and initial investigation he unexpectedly meets Teagan Carter, a woman who works for the system he is there to infiltrate. After she befriends him by accident, Tribe realizes she is one of the chosen he planned on eventually making like him. Though earlier than expected, Tribe feels as though fate has shown him the greater path. From the start of a simple handshake, Tribe begins her dark journey into becoming a force of nature to rival gods. Teagan lives a life of tragedy under the guise of innocence and beauty. She exists within her façade to the point of victimized ignorance. Tribe knows that before she can truly become the warrior she is meant to be, then she must first burn both herself and her false self all the way through her blackened roots. From endured pain and anguish she must choose to rise from those ashes, The First Paragon. Together they train and ready themselves for the forsaken world that exists and the war that is surely coming for every mortal soul in the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781682226025

Book preview

Author

INTRODUCTION

Future I

Courtnie stared intently at the blade forced into her face. It’d been countless millennia since she was this fearful. Everything that was happening was wrong. How could her plans go awry so fast? She was so careful and meticulous about it all. Not a single detail was out of place, except for maybe this one thing now jutting out in front of her.

Her body was withering, as was her will to endure the torture. None of this should have been possible. She was everlasting, forever connected to the feminine quality of all things. Courtnie’s breathing became shaky and low in depth.

She knew what was to come next. Her torturer made sure of that. For the first time she let the thoughts of death embrace her mind. More fear manifested through every pore of her skin. There would be no great hereafter when she was gone. Only the void. The abyss of non-existence.

Before her fears overwhelmed her completely, a new light of strength parted the darkness of her own mind. The life inside her would not let her submit. The blade lifted to the air above her. She closed her eyes and braced for the coming mutilation. This would not be the end.

Just before the heavy sword fell to her lower extremity, Courtnie could feel the extreme heat radiating off the celestial edge. The irony of such a holy relic performing such an unholy deed was tragic. It allowed a small portion of her heart to laugh before the sudden thud of blade and wood.

The deed was now over. At first it was a strange thing to feel nothing. A part of her was missing, literally, yet there was no feeling. Only loss. Then the steep incline of pain washed over Courtnie in one large tidal wave of anguish. She never screamed so loudly in her immortal life. Her lungs felt as though they would never stop. Her throat vibrated with a fury that had never left the confines of her body before. It was endless. Tears flooded her face to match the pain crashing against her will. Her cries came out with such force that it made her deaf. Blood and heat swelled her face.

Again her will began to fall to darkness. She wanted to die. This was too much for any living thing to endure. To let herself finally fall into the endless abyss would be a peaceful thing in comparison. Something slowed her descent. That simple spark of life touched her again, giving her strength.

Courtnie blinked her eyes through the clouds of suffering that blinded her. She would look into the face of her torturer. Defiance grew within her like a raging storm. Vengeance carried along its winds as bolts of lightning.

She ignored the burning, melted flesh that cauterized the wound. The smell threatened to throw her focus, but she endured it. Courtnie gripped the sides of her chair and wrenched her head up to face her torturer.

The torment struggled to articulate the emotions swirling wildly within her. Why?

Why what? the mysterious woman replied. Courtnie heard offense in her voice.

Why would you do this to me? I’ve done nothing to you, asked Courtnie.

It has hardly been nothing. And I think you know that, calmly and resentfully said the mysterious woman. Her feathers ruffled behind her as she swung the blade in front of Courtnie’s face.

Courtnie would not flinch at such a display of intimidation. The cuts and bruises swelled uncontrollably around her face. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. It stung a cut that resided there. She licked away the blood and then shock suddenly gripped her tightly. It was as mortal as any human being would be. Courtnie wanted to attack her with everything she had, but she was weak, withering, and most importantly, bound to her chair by celestial chains—the Unbreakable Chains. Her divinity was truly gone.

She looked up to her torturer. Why and how have you done this to me?

Why, why, why…is that all you’re going to say? Like I said, you already know why. The fact that you keep on denying it makes you more pathetic with every word. Don’t think me a fool. You are the infant here, not I. Infinitely more so now that you’re mortal. Not so everlasting now, are you, you stupid bitch! said the mysterious woman as she tapped Courtnie on the head with the tip of her sword.

It was cooling, but still hot. Blood sizzled, and the flesh it touched bubbled.

Courtnie seethed between her teeth at the woman. She knew her torturer was correct. They had all run out of time. Keeping up these pretenses solved nothing at this point. Might as well reason something out.

"Fine. I suppose the better question is, how or why would you do this to him? He was your best friend, your protector, and your coveted husband. How could you do the things you have done to him?" asked Courtnie.

Finally, the veil drops between us. Perhaps a truth between ancient enemies I think would be appropriate. Don’t you?

Truth? The truth is that he is a better entity than he ever was before. I haven’t done a thing to him. It was you who did this to him. You abandoned him. What he is now is what this world needs him to be. Why can’t you see that? said Courtnie.

Her white wings unfurled behind her, casting a massive shadow over the room. "I abandoned him?! You have no idea what I have been through to return to my beloved. You have no idea of the deep history we share. You know nothing, Goddess. You call what he is now, truth!? How dare you! You stole him from me. You manipulated him into becoming something he was never meant to be. A lie! I know it, and you certainly know it. He is not Guardian. I knew Guardian, and that thing out there is not him. I have had enough of the two of you interfering with my grand design. I have worked too hard to undo the damage you have done. Even if you aren’t aware, your ridiculous ignorance has caused far more damage than you could possibly realize. Did you ever stop to think why mortals are the way they are? Hmm? They fester because it festers within him. Without the free will to struggle and adapt, he will corrode from the inside out."

A tremendous crash from behind her forced the mysterious woman to tuck her wings behind and call on the guard from outside the pearl office.

A large creature with wings and heavy armor entered the luminescent office. The majority of its head was covered in an obsidian glass, masking its face. He had two oversized swords sheathed at both of his hips and one large projectile weapon strapped to his back. She didn’t recognize the design. It was something new, and nothing like anything her husband had ever designed. Courtnie couldn’t quite make out what it was saying to her torturer. Her hearing still rang inside of her head from all the trauma she had sustained thus far. What she could make out was that it had something to do with the Great Pearl Gates.

As she issued her orders, strange, boisterous laughter came from behind the mysterious woman. She stared in the direction of Courtnie’s mangled body, completely perplexed by the genuine humor emanating from her. In an instant the perplexity turned into fury and the mysterious woman charged Courtnie with her fist tightly clenched and back-fisted her across the room. Courtnie and her chair crashed against a pearl column. Her body fell to the floor.

With a single flap of her massive wings, the mysterious woman glided to Courtnie, already screaming, I sever your divinity, torture you, and brutally remove a piece of you, yet you laugh!? I fail to see the humor in any of it. Does your irresponsibility know no bounds? You may be singlehandedly responsible for the end of existence, and you laugh?

Courtnie’s sight was fading from black to foggy with every blink of her eyes. She was so tired. Her eyes had never felt so heavy.

The winged woman grabbed her by the face, squeezing her cheeks with anger. I sense the light of life sustaining you. Your sin is greater than any that have come before you. I will never let you die. You shall suffer for all of eternity for your crimes. Even that spark of life will not be enough. Speak, for it may be the last opportunity I afford you. She released Courtnie enough to hear what her last words were going to be.

"That sound you heard was your end. The apocalypse of heaven, all because of your own ‘grand design.’ You called me the stupid bitch? You may have made me mortal, but you said you sensed a spark of life in me. I am the original goddess. You have made me nothing more than a shell."

Courtnie’s logic was undeniable. No matter what she had done to her, Courtnie was a goddess and that meant her body was never capable of sustaining a mortal life force. Vexed, she couldn’t fathom what the light within her was.

Unless… the winged woman thought to herself. She retracted in shock and fear. Feathers detached and fell to the floor. She looked to Courtnie’s abdomen, then back to her. Impossible! It can’t be true.

With confidence Courtnie shouted, See for yourself and bear witness to a true miracle!

A moment of inner struggle took place before she finally sheathed her sword. The winged woman approached Courtnie softly, careful not to cause any stress on the very truth that she herself wanted to deny. Slowly she knelt and reached out with her divine senses. At first she sensed the life inside her, but the second she tried to reach further in, her senses were closed off, like by an impenetrable guard. She summoned an enormous amount of power and attempted to reach further in. There was only a glimpse before her power was thwarted yet again, but it was enough. Even the act of self-preservation was enough proof. It was just as she remembered.

She retracted in shock. No…impossible. You have betrayed your beloved! There is no other explanation for this.

I have done no such thing! screamed Courtnie. Did you think you would be the only one forever?

Again she managed to shock her torturer. How…How could you know that?

He told me a great many things from before. The miracle inside me grows stronger with every passing day and fast, too. It won’t be long now, said Courtnie.

The winged woman turned her back on her. Courtnie couldn’t see anything but her wings.

You have no idea what you have done. You are, in greater portion, a magical thing. You know what that means. There will be consequences. I’m sure your previous husband must have told you many other things about him. Did he not? You may have destroyed us all, the mysterious winged woman quietly spoke.

Courtnie laughed at the overbearing feigned emotion. Really? Don’t be so dramatic. You’re no longer the only one now and yet you still feign such apocalyptic theatrics? Please…stop pretending that what you have done was for the greater good. What you let happen and what you commanded to happen can never be forgiven. He will never forgive you! What’s that old mortal adage? A father would move Heaven and Earth for his child. What do you think is happening to your precious kingdom now?

He knows, then? asked the winged woman. She did not waver. I am not such a fool that I do not realize the things I have done are unforgivable, especially the way he is now. Perhaps even after I have undone whatever it is you have done to him, maybe then there would hope for me, but not beyond this moment, I fear. I have witnesses what he is capable of…

She looked to Courtnie and then back to her own hands. Especially when a monster such as I have wounded him so.

Something was wrong, so very wrong. Her torturer was weeping. She wasn’t even aware that she was capable of it. Courtnie couldn’t tell what was happening beyond the wings, but her torturer’s tone was becoming darker and darker. Feathers dropped from her wings. Something was very wrong.

"You are an infant, Goddess, and you are yet again so very wrong. You know nothing. I have spent countless millennia manipulating you through your ignorance. You are precisely where I positioned you and yet here I stand, drowning in my own ignorance. I should have known. My own anger and fury have blinded me to the only relevant truth. He always said that the true nature of existence flowed in one direction and all directions. It used me. He used me. I was a fool to think I had any control. Omnipotence is an illusion."

Her torturer’s sadness turned to happiness. It was scarier than the blade she’d mutilated her with.

All this time we have done this together. I have succeeded in my grand design—and with your help, no less. With all our help. All of it was for this…there is no stopping it now. My beloved returns. It’s only a matter of time now. No, Goddess, I was wrong. We both know nothing and everything.

Courtnie became enraged. The pain in her severed leg wasn’t helping matters, either. What the fuck is with the cryptic bullshit? What are you even babbling about?

Shock came over Courtnie as her torturer looked at her with the truest sympathy. This winged woman was the purest power she had ever known. She stood above her brimming with it.

In that moment she appeared as every mortal had imagined her to be. Pure, good, and truly omnipotent; beautiful beyond her own measure.

Even as she spoke, serene divinity spilled from her lips. No, Courtnie, there was never only one…there were two, just as there are miracles inside of you.

Courtnie’s eyes grew wide. Twins! An overwhelming sense of love flooded all of her senses.

Aye…and may the Maker forgive me enough for a quick end, for what I must do truly is for the greater good. Have faith, for I now spare you the pain I have felt for countless millennia.

Wait…what did you mean there were two of you? Courtnie asked in terror.

Without a split-second warning, the winged woman whirled around so fast Courtnie could barely see her spin. In a glance she saw, with horror, the tip of her sword thrust directly at her abdomen.

She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer, Please…no!

…Eyes Open…

CHAPTER ONE

Ripples

Whispers of broken souls desperately pushed and pulled with all they could for the power that called to them from below. Most dispersed as quickly as they came and then they were gone forever.

The surface of the water remained clear and undisturbed. It was a pond of calm and serenity. Sunlight sparkled off its flat, reflective surface into the shadows of the nearby pines, lighting cascades of luminescence into their dark abscesses. The pines clumped up into a dozen or so on the eastern side of campus. Anywhere surrounding the fringes of its borders expanded freshly mowed grass all the way to the main road that led into the neighboring town.

The lone family of pines remained the friendly neighbors of the pond below them. A certain kind of peace permeated the air for anyone who would stand before the pond’s edge, many of whom sought the peace that it projected; and on a hot day, the cool shade of the pines. This particular pond, however, was more than it seemed, and to some, more special. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it. It had the same water that fell from the skies, the same rocks that were deposited by glaciers, and the same trees that existed there for thousands of years.

What made this pond unique was its history. What made this pond so special was that it was forged by precious blood, sweat, and tears of the fallen and forgotten youth. That was more than a hundred and fifty years ago.

Shackles of that past crumbled away to give a slow birth to a campus of redemption and learning. Today that innate energy of salvation still resonates from deep within its depths, calling to those lost and broken souls.

The fallen youth were boys from all forms of broken families and rejected lifestyles. Their existence brought with it an enthusiasm and zeal that the world rejected with either a cold shoulder or blood-soaked, heavy hands.

Tolerance and ignorance have always been some of mankind’s greatest follies.

Back then, the creation of the pond itself was used to define within the fallen youth a rare brand of honor long forgotten even then. The damaged souls of this land resurrected themselves once more through self-discovery. It was a place where their mortal youth, many of whom lost their way in apathy and self-destruction, discovered the light within. From birth, every mortal child is born with the light; in fact, it is what they truly are and are meant to be. The campus where the pond was created was both the end of the line and a salvation.

With their youthful wayward hands, lifted unearthed soil to reveal more than a simple vessel for a body of water. The hardened effort revealed their soul. Others found or were given tools by hands that had once known the same hardships. With every partition of earth displaced, a piece of their soul was rendered back to them, many times much stronger than they were before. This healed the damage caused by their sins. The campus and pond soon became where the unseen were found, the broken were healed, and the shattered were mended.

This is how the Nexus was birthed. For generations the Nexus had been an evolving beacon to the light. It had taken young and damaged souls within its protective embrace. They were shown the way to salvation. Now something wicked had come and corrupted the faith. What was once a form of change was now conformity. The power that was once theirs had now become the power of a tainted god. In those times true believers populated the campus abundantly, each one leading those precious lives to a light-emitting existence. That same faith had now been smothered by darkness. The corruption was so caustic and abrasive, the souls left in its wake had now become dark and venomous. It only thirsted for the obliteration of the light and consumption of pure power.

Days had grown continually colder, the sky dim and swarthy.

The light, however, is a cunning thing.

***

An anxious man stood before the very pond. The time was just past midday. He stood contemplating the pond almost as if it were alive. He questioned the validity that it may be alive and if so, then what would the ramifications be of such a thing?

His breathing was steady, his stature warrior-like. The depth of his dark-brown eyes twitched furiously at each passing strategy that moved through his thoughts.

The pond’s surface watched the world eagerly from below him. Each and every object was reflected back perfectly—the trees swaying peacefully, giving way to the will of the wind. The cirrus clouds above danced their fine lines across the sky to their thicker counterparts as birds glided within the current. Fish below the reflected world weaved in and out of the scattered sunlight close to the pond floor. Virtually anyone would consider this type of harmony a perfect peace. Nothing ever changed the balance, and nothing seemed to care that it didn’t. It was a conformity that had never known serendipity.

His name was and is Tribe; an ancient name, as far as he knew. Tribe, the man before the pond, couldn’t help but think that it was hard to believe that such a serene place was now a tool for evil. Sometimes harmony isn’t really harmony at all. Chaos must force adaptation and evolution. He knew that evolution must be reborn. This was an opportunity that would not go untested. Tribe’s resolve swelled within his heart heavy and strong.

Still, the mirror-like surface of the water peered relentlessly outward. With a sudden rush a hole broke the world’s reflection, ruining the perfection and consuming what was once there into a medley that plunged deep. When the hole stretched so far as to strain its own existence, it finally reversed itself, flying high above the surface, stretching to a fine point. At its climax a mist broke loose in variations that spilled in every direction. The abyss transitioned to ripples that continuously appeared from the epicenter of the disturbance, extending across the entire surface. The stone that started it all sank to the bottom. In moments the water returned to its near original state, but was forever changed. Perfection was now destroyed. The world within had changed. The world that it reflected had changed. To what? Only time would tell.

Looking at the world in its waters, Tribe could see that the trees swayed with a will of their own now. The clouds were freed to clump, stretch, and sway. The fish below chose new paths. Somewhere within all that chaos they would all be the stronger for it.

Tribe stood at the edge of the pond closest to the school’s parking lot. The school itself was almost at the center of the entire campus, far off from the pond.

He smiled at what he had momentarily accomplished. Ahead of him Tribe saw more than the water. He saw a self-proclaimed fate and destiny. It was a choice he’d made and now everything would change.

He thought about his name just then, Tribe. It was a name of strength and power, one that he was told represented all that he and his people were. It’d been countless years since he’d donned the name and title. Up until this moment Tribe wore names like the variations of clothing he dressed himself in. Easy enough to make and do away with. Now more than ever, it was fitting that he took his name back.

After a complacent smirk, Tribe squatted down to the ground to find a second stone. His choices were numerous, but he was looking for the right one. Luckily, he found it. Reaching back, Tribe threw the stone higher and farther than he threw the first. The stone nearly hit a pair of birds playing a game of cat and mouse. They ignored it and swirled around the stone with grace.

Tribe sent a silent plea for forgiveness.

The second stone produced much the same result as the first, with one exception. The ripples from the first stone were no longer alone, but ever changing the world above and below together. Every wave interlaced with one another, either passing through freely or adding to their power.

He knelt down amongst the stones on the small shore again. He needed at least three more. He sifted anxiously, looking for just the right ones. There was no particular kind that Tribe was looking for. He had no predetermined shape or size in mind. Some were big, some were small; some were flatter than most, and would certainly lend themselves to skipping across the surface. Even that wasn’t a detail he was looking for. There was an ancient instinct that drove his fingers across the stones with purpose. Those that he deemed unnecessary he flicked to the side, discarding them. Tribe was looking for something inside himself to tell him which were the correct ones.

In moments he discovered the chosen ones. The ones he really needed. He rolled them through his fingers as he wiped the dirt that clung to them. They were worn and damaged, but these were the ones. He threw the third stone, then without waiting to see what happened next, threw the fourth, and the final stone he held onto. None of the stones he threw were the same in any way other than the fact that they were stones.

Tribe smiled at the small waves rippling through the pond. No one would ever know the beauty in it, save for himself.

One last stone remained. He held onto it longer than most of the others. He acted as if he didn’t want to throw this one. Something about the last one made him feel as though he were judging it. Weighing its worth, so to speak. There was something about it that made him feel uneasy. It was a question that he couldn’t quite articulate. Perhaps he was far too anxious. Maybe this stone was too clean or too good. It’d been so long since he’d set things in motion like this. He’d been hidden from this existence for so long. He was nervous, too, almost scared. This last stone would be the first step to real change.

His fingers caressed both flat, smooth sides. Tribe curved his index finger around the edge and placed his thumb around the opposite direction. This kind of hold would allow him to spin the stone. Reaching back, he gave the stone a swift whip with his arm and flick of the wrist. It ripped away from his fingertips, skipping across the surface of the pond, leaving behind waves with every touch. The stone skipped farther than he would have thought. Perhaps the crack he’d dismissed had something to do with that. After thirteen or so bounces the stone finally sank to the bottom. The pond swallowed the stone almost silently.

Tribe stepped back with a beatific look upon his face. He looked down to the surface of the water. The toes of his tan construction boots were almost touching the edge. They led him to recognize his own reflection. It looked back at him as if to say something without his permission. At first he thought he heard a whisper, only to have his intense focus pierced by the crashing of small waves. The remaining soft ripples ebbed away. Still, Tribe’s focus returned to the man in the reflection, hoping that by some microscopic chance he might tell him that what he was about to set in motion was the right and just thing to do.

Tribe laughed at the notion and splashed away his image. That kind of reassurance was the one thing someone like him could never have. Everything Tribe had ever done or would ever do would be done first by him. He would forever be the wayward light guiding all things. There would never be a mentor to teach him about the things he knew nothing about. He would never know the peace and comfort that comes with someone to simply just say what needed to be done. Tribe was condemned to journey through the darkness so that others may follow. He would never know the joy in just following. The crushing weight of existence would always rest upon his shoulders, a responsibility he never asked for.

Tribe snapped out of his trance and his heart began to fill with the three things that made him the man he was today: honor, respect, and the will to do what was right. It filled him with a sense of faith that could move the largest mountain. A sudden realization came upon him that regardless of the weight of his responsibility that always threatened to overcome him, he must always fight to stand again. Without him, they would all be lost. It scared him to be so needed; made him nervous, too. Yet he would never let life break him. If he cracked, he’d mend the separations and will himself to become stronger. Nothing would ever stop him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need help.

Overhead the clouds moved to reveal the sun that briefly bounced heavy rays of light off his smoothly shaved head. Tribe shielded his dark-brown eyes instinctively. In a few more moments, the clouds shaded him once again.

He preferred to be bald. Tribe removed the hair from his head daily. Somehow it made him feel cleaner. It was the one physical thing about him that he could continually damage. It made him feel normal. It made him feel mortal. His wife thought it was always a trivial notion that Tribe needed to get over, but he couldn’t help but feel the overpowering need to get rid of it. Removing his hair made him feel better about being himself. He always looked into the mirror each time and imagined he was shedding the rotten skin of the day before to reveal the new man beneath that struggled so hard to break free. It was a mortal insecurity, and knowing that did not make him feel any better. There was something buried deep there, but its existence continually eluded his mind’s ability to grasp it, forever out of reach and forever torturing the good man he fought so hard to be.

Tribe looked to the thick cloud that was blocking the sun. It was still moving fast. He winced as it moved along its route, revealing the sun that hit him in the face again. His long, black eyelashes did very little to shield his brown eyes from the intense rays. As much as he enjoyed the feeling of the sun upon his skin, it was always easier for him to see at night. The down side to it was that evil crept through the darkness—sometimes things that were worse.

He held his hand over his brow, looking up towards the scorching sun, almost as if to ask it not to shine so brightly today. After obviously being denied such a simple request, Tribe smiled in amusement and stepped into the shadows of the nearby pine trees. The smell was damp. The moisture coming from the pond cooled Tribe’s skin. He could hear the dried, dead branches cracking beneath his feet. Tribe took a deep breath. The pure energy was refreshing, and there was so much of it.

For one long moment he was at peace. One by one he dissociated from everything that would distract him from that peace until there was nothing but its long, drawn-out silence. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so removed from the world.

Some random particulates fell on his well-muscled chest, effectively bringing him back as he brushed them away into the wind. The white of his t-shirt ruffled. Suddenly there was a foreign sound of broken twigs coming from behind him. In a rush, he whirled around to face the threat. The only thing that came to his mind was that it was impossible that his enemy knew he was here yet. Even so, if there was anything he had learned over the years it was that it was best to be on guard at all times, or at the very least be as fast as possible. His once peaceful face went pensive as he sunk into a defensive posture, ready to counterattack with everything he had.

His overly aggressive reaction sent a shocking shiver down the petite woman’s spine. Already off balance, the young woman fell backwards from the rush of wind and energy that came from Tribe. Adrenaline burst forth from her belly like fireworks. Her heart beat completely out of control, to where she could feel it in her throat. Everything in her told her to run, but instead, for some unknown reason, she fought to get back up onto her feet and face her aggressor. It was completely out of character.

Oh, poop! Relax! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa…I didn’t mean to startle you, exclaimed the petite woman who giggled out of fright. She’d never expected someone like her to ever warrant such a response, especially not from the man before her.

He wasn’t as tall as most men she knew, but nevertheless was still frightening. If she had to guess, he was probably about five foot six. Not much taller than herself. His height gave his tense, muscular physique a bulky appearance. Age-wise he appeared to be in his late twenties, possibly early thirties. His ethnicity seemed to be a bit of a mystery though. His browned skin and mixed ethnic features led her to believe, if she had to guess, he had a Filipino-Caucasian background. Some of her friends in Florida shared some of the same features that were common in that particular hybrid.

After observing him for just a second, she noticed that this guy was sort of plain in composition. He wore a plain white t-shirt, a light pair of blue jeans that looked baggier than she preferred, and a pair of heavy tan leather boots. They were sort of like the ones her husband wore to work. Only much cleaner.

Since it was hot as hell out, his current ensemble seemed out of place. Especially the black leather gloves he was wearing around his clenched fists. The tops of his knuckles were pushing through the leather. And she could have sworn that his eyes were glowing there for a split-second, but shook off the thought.

What was that about? Why is he wearing gloves during the summer? She thought to herself.

She still had her hands held out in front of her to hopefully calm this guy down or hold him at bay.

After realizing there was no danger here, Tribe couldn’t help but see the humor in the current situation. This frightened girl was the farthest thing from his enemy. She was just a mortal girl. Probably the one he had been hoping for, though.

Oh…sorry. You startled me. I didn’t expect anyone to be here.

He noticed she was staring at his leather gloves, still clenched, expecting them to do some damage. So, he relaxed his fingers and stood straight up, somewhat embarrassed. An awkward silence fell between them.

She decided to speak first. You planning on robbing us or something? The young woman pointed humorously to his leather gloves.

Tribe reached up to scratch the back of his head and looked up through his embarrassment. Seriously, I’m really sorry that I jumped at you like that. I’m not a danger or anything. I’m just here for my interview. Got here a bit early and was curious about the pond. Figured I’d throw some stones and kill some time. Hopefully shake off my nervous hands. I got so distracted I didn’t hear you sneak up on me.

He heard himself starting to ramble. His wife had warned him about that.

She relaxed and stepped towards Tribe to have a more appropriate conversation. The first thing he noticed was that she was unusually pretty. Her shiny, platinum-blond hair was pulled all the way back into a ponytail, except for her bangs. The length of her hair brushed the back of her neck as the wind cooled the air between them. She looked as though she were hiding behind those bangs. Those eyes of hers really grabbed his attention. She had large, starburst-blue eyes that maybe ten people in the world had. Around here they were one of a kind, probably on the entire continent, too. The starburst of her eyes looked like an implosion of a single hue of color. He had never seen a person with this type of eye color himself. He had only read about them.

Tribe tried to make a point of not staring, but failed miserably. Her eyes almost snared him in a gaze. If he were any other man they might have kept him there, too. He carefully broke eye contact and took in as many observations about her as he could. After all, he was on the job—besides the one he was interviewing for later.

Physically she was fairly petite, but with an athletic build. Tribe figured her for a runner or a soccer player due to her highly developed calves, legs, and thighs, all the way up to her well-muscled backside. She was even dressed as though she were headed to a match. Her top was a baggy pink cap-sleeved t-shirt and her bottoms were hot pink and white striped nylon shorts. The shorts curved around her figure like shining silk. Her shoes matched the rest of her outfit perfectly, and clearly on purpose. At first Tribe thought she wasn’t wearing socks, but they were just those ankle-less ones that hid themselves just below the ridge of her shoes. The best part of her look was her golden tan.

She must have planned all of this, but Tribe didn’t read anything vain in it, which was another rare quality about her. However, he did pick up an unlikely vibe from her. Generally people who put this kind of effort into their appearance had an air of confidence about them. Not her. Contrary to her cheery demeanor, her posture seemed hunched, fearful, and in some sort of perpetual shame. She probably didn’t even know it herself. He needed more to confirm his suspicion. Studying her micro-expressions he found the evidence he was looking for: hints of agony hidden in the guise of her thin lips that pretended to smile. They would be thicker if not pursed and retracted. It was a mask, something that shielded her from the world around her. To the layman she might have seemed perfectly normal, and men certainly would have cast aside any real observations because of her beauty. There was something monumentally wrong and damaged about her.

This was just a glimpse of what was wrong with the rest of the world. She was precisely who he had been hoping to run into. She would be the first to guide those he would forge, like her, into the light, rising from the ashes of their own lives.

Something occurred to him that should have come sooner. How could she sneak up on him like she did? It wasn’t impossible, but rare for a god, let alone a mortal woman such as her.

An eerie silence continued through their already awkward situation. She looked at him as though she were reading his thoughts. There was a strong intuition about her that he didn’t expect, either.

Before Tribe moved to break the silence she again beat him to it. Yeah…well…anyway, my name is Teagan Carter; Ms. Carter around here. That sort of thing keeps up our authority with the residents slash students. You wouldn’t guess it, but small details like that matter to the boys more than you know.

Her voice was as petite as she was, but there was strength in it.

I suppose I was coming down here for the same reason you did. This is usually when I take my break. I like being near the water before I go back. Something about this pond makes me feel better. I can’t explain it. It just does.

She paused for a moment and realized he needed to be more cautious. You know, you should be more careful about wandering around on campus. They watch the unfamiliar people here closely. They would say that it keeps the boys safe from the outside world, and I suppose in most cases that’s true. Many of the families that these boys come from aren’t very… healthy. It was the best word she could think of without being disrespectful.

Not healthy to her was the understatement of the century.

You said you were here for an interview? I actually work for the school as a teacher’s assistant. You here for the agency or the school? she asked as she held out her hand in a professional greeting.

Tribe was still trying to analyze whether or not she was his enemy. This wouldn’t have been the first time he was deceived. He must have unnerved her pretty good. She was talking so fast, with so much to say. Not quite the laconic nature he was accustomed to for a first encounter. So far nothing about this meeting was normal.

Tribe met her greeting, then tucked his hands in his pants pockets. Umm…thanks, my name is Tribe. I applied to work for the school as an assistant. So, I guess we will be working together.

Teagan had to ask, Tribe? Is there more to it?

I know it may sound unusual, but Tribe is my only name. I’d like to say my parents named me, but it was more of a community kind of thing.

You’d be surprised the names that come through this place. Never heard of anyone only having just one though, but I like it. It’s short and easy to remember, said Teagan. Her voice sounded very feminine and light. She started to stare at his leather-covered hands again.

I bet you’re wondering why I’m wearing these gloves on such a blisteringly hot day. I have a bit of an allergy to touching. It was the best save he could think of.

At least it’s your one strange thing. That and your one and only name, Teagan pointed out.

That piece of information made him curious. My one strange thing?

Yeah, everyone here has something strange about them that seems to work in their favor. Especially the ones who last more than a year. It’s sort of a prerequisite that the boss lady looks for. She meant it as a joke. Sort of.

Well, I get how I can have a strange thing, but what about you? I find it hard to believe a woman like yourself has anything that strange worth talking about; other than your eyes, that is. I have to admit, I’ve never seen anything like them.

Oh I do, trust me. Besides, isn’t everyone nowadays strange in their own way? I do get the eyes thing a lot though. It’s sort of why I’m not giving you poop about the way you’ve been staring at me. That look is pretty much an all the time kinda thing for me. Since it was me that scared ya, I’m going to cut you a break anyway.

Tribe thought twice about his decision to not shake her hand uncovered. He was feeling guilty about it. The first step was recon anyhow. It was probably better to start off with more information than he had already. He was just hoping he wouldn’t have to get it this way. Tribe took off the black leather glove on his right hand and extended it to greet her properly.

Teagan was a bit stunned. Are you sure? Your allergy, I mean. Isn’t that bad?

Small contact is fine. It’s the extended contact that gets me into trouble. It will probably just make my hand a little itchy.

After some hesitation, Tribe and Teagan shook hands. At that point she felt a little silly, since they’d been talking for a bit already. Tribe, on the other hand, was not dealing with the handshake as well as he was hoping for.

At first he only started scrunching his eyes in discomfort. To her it looked like he was coming down with a headache. He pressed the corner of his eye to attempt to relieve some pressure. Tribe always hated this part. The sudden nausea and dizziness always came the same way. Most of the time it was the kind of thing he would just shrug off, but this time it wasn’t just a sudden rush. It was coming in gushing waves and not stopping. Tribe dropped to his knees, still holding onto her hand. Teagan tried to help him back up but he was almost too heavy.

Tribe! she shouted. What’s happening? Are you okay?

His vision started to blur. The sensations he was getting from her reached deeper into him than anything he had experienced before. Sadness washed its way through him as he looked into her face.

Tribe let go of Teagan and picked up his glove that he had just dropped. He was sweating buckets and started breathing heavily. I think I’m okay. Don’t worry about me; it probably has to do with the heat. I lost track of time out here. I didn’t bother to eat breakfast, either, I’ve been so nervous.

There was a look of concern for her on his face that didn’t make sense to her. It was weird. He was the one with the allergic reaction and he was more worried about her?

Tribe’s heart ached for Teagan. A rage and fury bellowed from within him. They wanted to exact vengeance. He worked hard to keep them under control. They begged to be free. Instead he pushed them further down with the promise of future freedoms. His emotions reluctantly abated.

Teagan was quick to help him up. Maybe having a job where you have to put your hands on people isn’t such a good idea for you.

No, seriously, I am fine. A little water and I’ll be right as rain, said Tribe as he stepped back away from Teagan. I need to do some good with my life. This is the only way I know how. I’m not going to die, if that’s what you’re worried about. Having this job is too important to me. Without this I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Fortunately she had her water bottle with her and offered it to Tribe. He needed it more than he thought. The bottle didn’t leave his lips until it was almost gone.

Teagan didn’t seem all that surprised. I can see that. Just take it easy. Not going to do you any good if you die of heat stroke or dehydration. Probably should have worn some shorts, huh?

Tribe couldn’t argue with that. He nodded his head in agreement.

So, about us working together. We won’t actually be working together. Technically we will be working for the school, but we won’t be in the same behavioral program. The school is split up into therapeutic programs. Where the boys go depends on the kind of adversities they come from. You’ll get the skinny on all the programs during your interview or the orientation, if you get the job. I don’t need to bore you with all that now. You look like you wouldn’t be able to take much more. Save your strength for the interview. You’re going to need it.

She seemed to be amused by the thought, like it was some kind of inside joke. Tribe finished the bottle. He gleaned from her sarcastic remark that he would be having more unique fun at this interview than he thought.

Step carefully when you get to your interview. Our boss is a tough lady; she is as rough and raw around the edges as they come. Don’t get me wrong, she really believes in the work that we do here. Put in as much work and time into this kind of career as her and you’re bound to grow leather skin. If you know what I mean. Be prepared; I doubt she will let even you go without putting you through the gauntlet.

Even me? He thought. What is that supposed to imply? I wonder if that’s a good thing or bad.

Tribe stood up. Sounds tough to get in here. So, do I even have a chance? All I want to do is make a difference. I see how the world is. It sucks. Maybe here I can do something about it. I’ve always believed in the good in all people no matter how much shit they’ve been through. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t get in.

He seemed genuine and she could see that. Relax, I’m not the one you have to convince. I wouldn’t worry so much. You seem like the right kind of person that needs to be here rather than the kind that just needs a job to get by. You’re attractive, pretty much straightforward, articulate, and even have a touch of odd about you. Just be yourself is the best I can offer by way of advice. Better that than the alternative. Boss lady can smell bull-poopy from a mile away.

What? I don’t have to change water to wine? grinned Tribe. At least he thought he was funny. After realizing that he’d failed epically he just bowed his head in a sarcastic kind of shame. He was fiercely embarrassed and unfortunately, it was the kind of thing that happened to him more times than he would like to admit.

Teagan saw through the weak attempt at sarcasm and replied, Yeah, let’s leave the witty remarks to the professionals. You might want to keep your brand of funny tucked away.

They both laughed.

I am so sorry, I’m better than that. I swear, he said as he held up his right palm over his heart.

She stared at him as he started to ramble on and on about how